


Supremacy

by RoselynneSummers



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, M/M, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-27
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-04 21:12:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6675613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoselynneSummers/pseuds/RoselynneSummers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With the death of Peter and Kate, drastic changes are shifting the balance of power among the multiple forces at work in Beacon Hills.  Scott, feeling betrayed, turns his back on Derek.  Stiles becomes more involved in Derek's affairs than ever and stumbles upon an event that will change the their lives.  This story begins where the first season left off.</p><p>Update: Chapter Four - The Call: Stiles and Derek investigate a murder.  Stiles uncovers a lead to uncovering Lydia's condition.  Tragedy strikes the group.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Haunted

**Author's Note:**

> This fic will be primarily focused on the action/adventure of the story, but will also be heavily focused on Stiles' and Derek's relationship. There are other pairings in the fic, but none get very much attention.
> 
> This story will begin very close to where Teen Wolf left off after the first season, but then will spread quickly into more AU territory.
> 
> The rating is currently T, but will be booted up to M in later chapters.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Chapter One

_Haunted_

" _These violent delights have violent ends_

_And in their triumph die, like fire and powder_

_Which, as they kiss, consume"_

_\- William Shakespeare_

The way she felt did not seem natural. Her hand was warm, but completely limp. If her touch were cold he would almost immediately have assumed that she was dead. Warmth was the only indication that she was alive, that along with her heart monitor signifying a slow but steady beat. He could have done something to help her, if he were only a few seconds earlier. Perhaps if he were more powerful, more calculated in his actions, more honest with her, perhaps she would not be bruised and battered and barely alive.

The purple and black splotches along her arms broke his heart. The deep gash in her left side cut him nearly as deeply as she had been wounded. Granted, it had only been two days since the attack on her life. Only two days since Peter Hale was executed at the hands of his nephew. Only two days since that nephew had betrayed his best friend.

As Stiles sat with Lydia's hand in his, looking at her pale, yet perfect face, he could only think about two things: her wounds, and his findings from his research. Not that he needed the incentive dive deeper into Werewolf lore, but Scott needed him now that Derek was out of the picture. The conclusion about Lydia's condition was perplexing to him, but he had a definite answer. No matter what Allison, Scott, or Jackson asked, the answer would stay between him and Lydia.

Stiles released Lydia's hand and stood up. He leaned down, putting his lips mere centimeters from her ear, and whispered softly.

"I know what you are."

X-X-X-X

"Are you still seeing Scott McCall?"

Victoria's words were cold and calculated. She stared at her daughter, her cool blues enflamed in frustration. Allison sat at her kitchen table, ordered there by her father shortly after her grandfather arrived, while her mother interrogated her.

"I'm confused, mom," Allison replied, "Because I see him every day at school."

Her grandfather, Gerard, scoffed. He had been in their house for no more than 15 minutes and his utter disgust towards Werewolves was clear.

"Allison," her father's voice was the only calm one in the room, "I know what you think you saw. You think Scott was defending you, and honestly I believe he was. But that doesn't change the fact that Scott is a Werewolf and needs to be contained."

"Exterminated." Gerard corrected, "Chris, you should know by now that there are no safe Werewolves or safe alternatives to killing them."

"You are not going to kill a Werewolf who hasn't harmed a human," Victoria shrilled, "Now, I don't like the boy's condition but he, along with Derek Hale, are no danger."

Gerard eyed his daughter, "Know your place, you chose your path a long time ago."

"Because I don't approve of killing for the hell of it!"

"And what happens when Hale builds another pack? They're predators, they kill, and if we do not eradicate them they will rise up and resort to their true ways."

Chris stepped between Victoria and Gerard. The two had released their focus on Allison and were standing aggressively toward one another.

"We go by the Code," Chris was stern in his words, as if he were the final voice, "The Code that the Council, which you serve on, drafted to prevent killing innocents. We will take Scott, contain him, and try to cure him."

Allison stood from her seat, "Cure him?"

Gerard turned his focus to Allison, "Know your place. You are not a hunter yet."

"It looks like all women have a place in your head, pop." Allison folded her arms and glared at her grandfather. The man who she once adored was changing drastically in her eyes.

"Chris," Victoria put her hand on the small of Chris's back, "Peter is dead, Scott can't be cured."

Allison interjected again, "How can a Werewolf be cured?"

Gerard scoffed again, but did not say anything. Victoria turned to her daughter, "If your grandfather will let me practice my _role_ as historian, I can tell you." She turned her eyes to Gerard, who flicked his hand to signal she could speak, "There are reports that claim Werewolves can be cured of their condition by a mix of wolfesbane and their inflictor's blood. But if the mixture isn't perfect, and the Werewolf is not strong enough, then it will die. It also has to be given while in Werewolf form, which is why the curing process is very difficult."

"The Code prohibits curative attempts due to the low success rate," Gerard said, "Your father must know that, since he holds the Code so dear."

Chris snapped back at Gerard, disgust seeping from every word. Before she could ask another question the three adults were in a shouting match. The loud noise made her thoughts run through her head much faster than they would have normally. If Scott knew the curing process would kill him, then would he even want to try? And Derek must have known that cure is lethal, that is why he would not cure Scott.

Allison watched the adults, voices maxed out and hands flying in rage, and she took her opportunity to return to her room. As soon as she shut her door she turned on her iMac, logged on to Skype, and called the one person who needed this information the most.

X-X-X-X

"Honey, I'm home." Stiles called as he entered the half-burned house that Derek chose to stay in. He walked over creaking floor boards and closer to the steps in the center of the foyer.

Derek appeared from what was once the living room, and now was an open-roofed charred reminder of the tragedy that occurred there. Derek's hair was, as always, gelled up. His five-o'clock shadow covered his face. And, as is common with Derek Hale, his jaws were clenched to prevent him from looking happy.

"Out."

Stiles jumped in shock, Derek's approach had been silent.

"C'mon, I don't get the dramatic jump from the top of the stairs welcome, or do you save that for Jackson?"

"Out."

Stiles nodded, "Eloquent as always. I need to talk to you."

Derek leaned against the open doorway, arms and feet crossed. He tilted his head a few degrees to the right.

"I'm going to take that head tilt as permission for me to talk." Stiles leaned against the stairway to mock Derek's pose, "Our relationship has become so tangled that I understand you clenching and unclenching your jaw is a signal that you're interested."

"Talk before I hurt you."

"You act all big, bad, alpha-ey, but you're actually looking out for us all. You scared the shit out of Jackson the other night so I'm sure he's never going to try to be a Werewolf again."

Derek and Stiles stared at one another for a moment.

"No response?" Stiles questioned, "No, 'Hey I'm Mr. Broody and I don't care about anyone but myself'?"

"Point?"

Stiles grinned, "I knew it you big—" Derek interrupted his sentence by yanking him from his place and throwing him up against the wall. Derek's face was so close to Stiles' that their noses almost touched.

"I'm impatient," Derek growled, "Get to the point or get out."

"You smell so clean." Stiles observed.

"What?" Derek backed up, his brooding face turned to a confused one.

"I mean this place has no plumbing or electricity and you're always so clean. Where do you shower? Don't tell me to wade around in the river."

Derek grabbed Stiles in an effort to throw him out.

"Okay, okay, okay! No small talk, we're not friends even though I saved your life, blah blah. You can return to brooding in just a second."

Derek removed his hand from around Stiles' arm.

"An Alpha's instinct is to build his pack. You had a willing person who wanted to join you. That means something is coming that you don't want Jackson involved in. I'm not a genius but that's the only thing I can think of."

"Out."

"Derek, you need to tell Scott," Stiles stated. "You need to tell him that you didn't cure him because you knew it would kill him."

Derek cocked his head to the side again. This boy, though annoying, always knew more than he should.

"Honestly," Derek pressed Stiles back up against the wall, "your constant prying into things that don't involve you drives me insane. Let Scott believe what he will. I told you three times to get out of my house, which is three more times than I usually tell people who intrude."

"You know I'm much more of a movie and dinner date kind of guy, not a slam me up against the wall and have your way with me type of guy. I'm not easy, Derek." Stiles grinned and winked at the irritable man. He loved getting under his skin because, now more than ever, Derek would not hurt him or anyone else.

Within the next two seconds Stiles was cleaning dirt off of his jeans, because Derek threw him out of the house and slammed the door.

"Gerard Argent is here, at Allison's house. Something is going to go down, Derek. You need us. Whatever's coming, whatever you're preparing for… it's big. I can feel it. You don't have to do this alone."

Stiles waited for a moment before returning to his Jeep. Despite Derek's irrationally angry mannerisms and his deliberate attempts to alienate himself from anyone who matters, Derek cared. Stiles tried not to taint his view of the man with pity, but he lost his whole family due to one wild Hunter. And if what Allison said was true, Kate was someone he cared for very deeply. That kind of betrayal would mess up even someone of the strongest will, and Stiles desperately wanted to fix Derek. He didn't know why, but this encounter only heightened his need to find out what was coming.

He laughed before he started his car. Derek was the strong one, the driven one. Stiles knew he couldn't physically help Derek, but he needed someone to confide in…even if that someone was him. He dialed Allison's number before driving off, and shouted one last farewell through his window.

"I love you too, Miguel!"

Derek watched Stiles drive off through the broken upstairs window, what was once his sister's bedroom. He shook his head, and nearly grinned. He did not have the time to grin; he had an appointment to keep.


	2. What You Want

Patience was not a virtue Derek was well versed in. He had been standing in the most heavily wooded area of Grove Hill Park just outside of Beacon Hills for nearly an hour. His hands were tucked in his pockets, his feet planted in the same spot, breathing steadily in and out, just waiting for his _contact_. She was never late, and, though she had a tendency for waiting around in dark shadows, she always made herself announced.

Derek exhaled loudly, partially out of frustration. Oddly, the time was passing by rather quickly with the thoughts running through his head. He knew he should be more focused on this woman, on her identity, on her motives, but he couldn't help but think about Stiles.

 _You don't have to do this alone_.

Stiles had no idea what he was saying, what he was committing himself to. Even worse, the plurality of his statement meant Scott, Allison, and probably Jackson would be involved too. Scott could defend himself; Scott could stand at his side, but not the others. They were kids, seventeen year olds with no idea of the severity of the situation. Derek's annoyance from Stiles ran very deep under his skin, but the thought of Stiles getting hurt angered Derek to no end. He had shared some of the most intense moments of his life with Stiles. That meant something, despite the fact most of those moments were directly related to him pushing or hitting the frail boy. Maybe he didn't need to do _this_ alone--whatever _this_ turned out to be.

"Lost in thought?" said the precise voice that he had grown used to hearing over the past few months.

"It took you long enough."

"Sorry, I had some unexpected business to attend to."

Derek turned to the source of the voice.

"No, no," the voice warned, "you know you're not allowed to see me."

Derek sighed, "What do you need to tell me? And please be specific, these run-arounds are wasting my time."

It was silent for a moment, except for the rustling of leaves under her feet. The woman was obviously human due to her scent and her fidgeting.  Though her scent was muddled by some reagent Derek felt as though he knew her.

"These violent delights have violent ends, Derek."

"Shakespeare again?"

"Truth."

"And what is that truth?"

"Build your pack. You did as instructed and killed Peter Hale. But now you need to exercise your strength as the Alpha and build your pack. There are others out there who can help you when the time comes, but until then you need your own support. Scott will not be enough."

"Not enough for what?"

Derek heard footsteps, soft on the damp leaves of the park. He exhaled heavily and clenched his jaw. Anger began to flood through his body. He could hear the balls of her feet pressing on the leaves that littered the ground before her heel touched down behind. She was backing away.

"I'm not cursing a human, I won't."

"Then you will be alone when they come."

"They? The Argents?"

"No, they're much, much worse."

"How do you know all of this?"

"George Mallory once said that the highest of the world's mountains has to make but a single gesture of magnificence to be the lord of all, vast in unchallenged and isolated supremacy. Not everyone can attain supremacy with a single gesture, Derek. Sometimes you have to take drastic measures."

"I don't want supremacy."

"But they do. Heed my advice Derek."

The footsteps became rushed. The woman was leaving.

"Wait! I need your help! Who is Gerard Argent?"

Derek's question was too late; she was gone. In any normal circumstance Derek would have pursued her, caught her, and interrogated her until he got the answers he needed. But this woman was not ordinary. Her scent had a fragrance of power and enlightenment, her voice commanded respect, and she had proved a worthy resource to him since his sister had died. She was the one who directed him back to Beacon Hills, she was the one who told him about Scott's condition, she was responsible for so many things. An invisible hand guiding these events, Derek felt as though she was the director and he was merely following her instructions.

No matter his questions, he had his next step in mind: build a pack.

X-X-X-X

Scott jumped in shock when his locker door slammed in front of his face. Behind the once open door stood Allison. Her dark hair hung in loose curls that framed the amused expression on her face.

"Is my big, bad Werewolf scared?" As she whispered the words she leaned in close to his body. She slid her hands around his neck, intertwining her fingers on the back of it. Scott grinned and put his arms around her waist.

"You're handling this surprisingly well."

Allison planted a quick kiss on Scott's lips before she withdrew from his embrace. She slid her hand from his neck down to grab his hand before they began walking down the hallway.

"What do you mean?"

"It's just if I had known I would be your big, bad Werewolf I would have told you sooner. I feel bad that I didn't."

"I'm glad you didn't, honestly."

Scott stopped mid stride and turned to his girlfriend.

"Sorry, I feel like this is going to be a need-to-look-in-the-eyes kind of moment."

Allison smiled locked glances with Scott. His expression was one of confusion, not like it was unordinary for him to be confused. Scott, though half of the Werewolf population in this town, was not the smartest or most receptive person she knew. Lydia referred to him as adorably dubious.

"So before I realized my aunt was a psychopath I talked to her about that night in the school. I told her about how weak I felt and she promised to make me stronger. I know she was insane, but she did. She helped me be more confident and feel more powerful. If I had known you were a Werewolf from the start I probably wouldn't feel like I do now."

"How do you feel now?"

"Powerful, like I can take care of myself."

"And how would you have felt if I told you sooner?"

"Like the Peach to your Mario, the damsel in distress. These past few months haven't been easy, and they probably could have turned out much better..."

"But?"

Allison put her put her hands on Scott's cheek. His face was contorted like he was bracing for bad news and she had the instant instinct to reassure him. She pulled his face down close to hers.

"But I'm happy, healthy, and in love. That's all that matters."

Scott grinned, "Okay. Me too." Allison and Scott locked their lips together for another moment, which was abruptly interrupted by Scott's groaning stomach.

Allison laughed against his lips, "I think you need to eat."

"No, no, no, I never need to eat again if we can stay like this."

"I need you well fed, if you're weak you won't be as fun when you take my clothes off."

Scott's eyes widened and a slightly evil smirk arched across his face before he said: "Lunch time."

X-X-X-X

"Just tell me this whole tortured 'Change me! I need it!' act is finally over."

Jackson glared at Stiles from across the table.

"What?" Stiles said through a half-full mouth of curly fries, "No douchetastically dick of a comment about driving a Porche instead of a Honda?"

Jackson exhaled heavily, "Back off, Stiles."

"All I'm saying is it's not meant to be, and you're better off because of it." Stiles swallowed and leaned forward, "You're smart, athletic, and whatever. You don't need the bite to be special."

Jackson eyed Stiles. He leaned forward, closing the distance between him and Stiles. "What's your angle here, huh? You're not going to change my mind, I will get that goddamn bite one way or another."

"Do you know how hard it was for me to compliment you? Projectile vomiting ninja stars would have felt better. Show some appreciation."

Jackson's eyes narrowed. He scoffed, slammed his back against his chair, and tangled his hands in his hair. "Jesus, Stiles. I just..."

"I know, I hate you too," Stiles nodded and then grinned, "but we're all we've got, man. We don't have to love each other, but trust me, we're in this together."

Jackson nodded and smiled as Allison and Scott took their seats beside them.

"A smile?" Allison sat her tray down beside Stiles. Scott sat across from her, "That's a nice surprise. And it doesn't even look like you're plotting something."

"Nothing at all," Jackson cut his eyes to Scott and to Stiles, "Allison, I need to tell you something."

"Okay?"

She had no idea what he had been up to over the previous few weeks. The things he did to Scott. How vehemently he tried to obtain that bite. As he was telling her he knew it probably wasn't the best idea, but it felt good to have everyone at the table know.

"I know you probably think I'm an asshole—"

"Nope," Allison interrupted, "I think you were confused, just like we all have been. Honestly, I'm ready to put this behind us."

"That's not exactly possible," Stiles stated.

"I mean the emotional part. Of course these things happened and for whatever reason they happened to us. Honestly, my family nearly killed Scott, Jackson nearly got him killed too, and Scott could have killed all of us at some point…who cares anymore? We're together and let's just be thankful for that."

The boys eyed each other awkwardly for a moment.

Allison sighed, "This is why I need Lydia."

"How's she doing?" Jackson asked, "I haven't really had the time or gut to go see her."

"She's doing great," Allison optimistically chimed, "I mean, she's still asleep but they've ruled out the possibility of her being in a coma. Her parents said that the doctors say she's actually fine, but her body is healing. They said it's better she's like this for now because she'll heal faster."

"That's a bright outlook on her stupor," Jackson barked.

"Sensitive as always, right Sunshine?"

"Stupor, Stiles, stupor," Jackson attested, "it's a type of catatonia."

"All pessimism aside," Allison interrupted, "I'm sure she'll be fine."

"I'm sorry," Jackson explained, "I'm just still a little on edge. I'm not handling this anywhere near as well as you three are."

"I just got a compliment from Jackson Whittemore, my oh my!"

"Stiles, stop." Scott moaned, "You're handling this fine, Jackson."

Allison grabbed Jackson's hand from across the table, "We're all doing the best we can. Being cheery, even if it is obnoxious, is how I'm choosing to handle this."

Jackson nodded in agreement, "It'll balance me out, thanks."

"So what now?" Scott questioned. The fact that they could sit down at a table together and actually be able to speak without an outburst of post-traumatic stress was a feat that should have taken weeks. But there were still plenty of unanswered questions.

"What do you mean?" Allison eyed her boyfriend.

"What do we do? There's still a lot to figure out," Scott leaned in and lowered his voice to a whisper, "like why did Derek kill the Alpha instead of curing me? What is your dad going to do about me and Derek now?"

Allison and Stiles knew the answer, or at least information that would help uncover them. But they had both agreed to keep Scott out of it for fear he would rush headfirst into something that could hurt him. Allison put her hand on Stiles' leg; she knew it was hard for him to lie to his best friend.

"We take it as it comes," Jackson said, breaking the somewhat awkward silence that had surfaced, "right now I would really like to just take it easy. We still have lacrosse to exhaust us."

Scott and Jackson began to talk about the upcoming state championship. Stiles shared a serious glance with Allison before she looked away toward the cafeteria's open door to the hallway. Standing in the door, eyes fixated on her, was her grandfather.

"Shit." She whispered under her breath. Stiles leaned in to her, Jackson and Scott were still distracted, "Remember the man who wants to kill every Werewolf in sight?'

"The sexist one, right, because there's so many I get them confused."

"Shut up!" Allison looked around and hid her face, "He's standing in the doorway, staring at me."

Allison immediately stood and headed out of the cafeteria through another exit. Scott rose up to go after her, but was sat back down by Stiles.

"What's the matter with her, is she okay?" Scott interrogated.

"Of course she's okay! Why wouldn't she be! It's not like there's an Alpha wolf trying to kill her or anything! Just girl problems, son, calm down." Stiles words were so rushed that Jackson and Scott only understood pieces of it.

"Girl problems?" They asked.

"Girl problems!" Stiles exclaimed. He turned his eyes back to the doorway. The silver haired, yet surprisingly buff man was still standing in the doorway. If his eyes were guns, Scott would have had two bullet holes in the back of his head.

X-X-X-X

Stiles parked his Jeep outside of Derek's house. After seeing Gerard, Derek was the only person Stiles could think about. If Gerard was going to try to kill Scott, Derek could stop him. Derek would stop him.

"Derek!" Stiles threw the door to the charred remains open, "Derek!"

Where was he? Stiles rushed through all of the rooms on the first floor and out through the burnt down wall at the back of the house. Stiles ran back to the front door and peered out of it. Not surprisingly, Derek's car was not there.

"Genius, Stiles, no car no Derek."

Stiles sat down on the steps and cupped his face in his hands. That look on Gerard's face. He wanted Scott dead. Maybe he wanted them all dead. And Allison! Stiles felt horrible for leaving the school before checking on her. Scott would be so angry with them both for keeping this secret from him, and even angrier at Stiles for involving Derek. Scott made it very clear the night after Peter Hale died that he had no desire to ever see Derek again.

Stiles propped his arms on his knees and looked nervously around the house. For a half-incinerated haunting ground, it was especially silent. There were no sounds typical of old, or damaged houses. No creaking. No groaning. Just silence. Driven nearly insane by sitting still, Stiles jumped from place on the stairs. He paced around the foyer for nearly twenty minutes before he stopped and glanced up the stairs.

He had never been up there. Scott had never been up there, or never said he had. No one had been up there. Except Derek. Derek had been up there. Derek's long-jump perch was up there. Maybe that was where Derek's things were. Maybe that was where the hypothetical shower was. Maybe that was where all the secrets of all the Werewolves that had ever existed rested. Stiles stopped himself. His train of thought, though normally fast paced and skipped-beat just like that, was leading to him to once place: up the stairs. If Derek came home and he was up there, Derek would probably hit him harder than he ever had before.

Regardless, Stiles was in the upstairs hallway before he knew it. Unsurprisingly, most of the second floor had collapsed. Only two rooms remained intact. The first was on the left side of the stairway, the room above the living room. It was mostly empty, but there was a window with a circular hole in one of its panes.

"That's his spy corner," Stiles said to himself.

The room, unknown to Stiles, used to be Laura Hale's. The room Stiles went to next, the only other room intact, was very apparently Derek's. He opened the black door, burned just like everything in the house, and entered. His feet rested on a large throw rug covering the dirty, once hardwood floors. There was a dresser, which looked relatively new, a closet with Derek's clothes, a simple twin bed, and a bedside table. On the table was a book written in French and a used candle. Stiles opened the bedside table's top drawer and found a small collection of ragged, torn, and stained pictures.

His family…his oddly photogenic, strong jawboned family. It was a tattered family history small enough to fit in a bedside drawer, but what was likely Derek's only connection to his apparently large family. They looked so happy. Stiles kept shifting through the pictures. He saw Peter Hale playing with children that were likely his own, what had to be Derek's parents kissing, and a family photo that caught his eye. He counted the people in it: 36. The police report said 8 people died in the fire. That meant there were 25 Hales unaccounted for.

Stiles sighed and moved on to the next picture. In it, a young woman with long dark hair was hugging someone. The boy she was hugging was younger than her, with flat hair, no facial hair, narrow shoulders and a lanky body. If you added hair gel, a five-o'clock shadow, 50 pounds of muscle, darker hued clothes and a scowl the boy would be identical to Derek. Stiles looked around the room and placed the pictures back into the drawer.

He sat on Derek's bed and reflected on what he just saw. A joyful family. Stiles never spent much time contemplating what Derek's family had been like, but judging from Derek's recent cheerfulness, and Peter's recent sanity he assumed it was dysfunctional. But judging by Derek's vivid happiness in those pictures it was very clear that the family was fine, it was the fire that changed the two Hales he knew. Stiles couldn't help but think about how he could help Derek regain some of that happiness again. It was a small tug on his conscious to do so, but that small tug had a lot of strength.

"Where's the shower?" Stiles, always adept at distracting himself when needed, rose from the bed. He opened the only remaining door in the room and found, to his astonishment, a bathroom. Though the walls were tainted gray from smoke damage, the floor was tiled, the toilet clean, and the shower had a curtain on it.

"No way!" Stiles reached in the shower and turned it on. Water came out. Stiles jumped back in amazement.

"HOW!?" he exclaimed. He turned off the shower and stepped back, rather pleased with himself. He went to walk out the door when he heard a car pull up into the driveway.

"Dammit, I'm dead." Stiles instinctively jumped into Derek's closet and closed the door. He pressed himself up against its interior wall. The closet smelled like fresh laundry. Stiles reached up above him on the upper shelf and found a dryer sheet lying there. Stiles grinned, Derek refused to make small talk but remembered ways to keep his closet laundry fresh.

The sound of footsteps down the hall snapped him back into the present. Stiles took in a deep breath, preparing for soft breathing as long as Derek was home.

"I am soooo dead," he whispered to himself just before the door to the room slid open.


	3. Collide

The thud of Derek's footsteps were heavy in the hallway, but once inside the bedroom the sound of his stride was muffled by the rug on the floor. Stiles peered through the shuttered door of the closet. He intently watched Derek as he removed his leather jacket and threw it on the bed. Derek stood near his bed for a second and tilted his head back. Stiles listened closely and realized Derek was sniffing the air.

"You smell me don't you?"

Derek did not turn around, "I don't need to."

"You saw my Jeep, and can probably hear my heartbeat, right?"

"Don't forget your tracks outside and through my house."

"This conversation is a little uncomfortable, with your back turned and me hiding in your closet, but I feel much safer in here."

"I'm not going to hurt you, Stiles."

"Turn around, if your fangs are out I'm calling 911."

Stiles expected a roar, or an inhumanly quick maneuver to pull him out of the closet and throw him through the bedroom window, but Derek actually turned around. His eyes and mouth were closed.

"Open your eyes, if they're red I swear I'll find some wolfsbane somewhere in this closet."

Derek opened his eyes; they were their normal smoky blue.

"Okay, now show me your teeth."

Derek slowly raised his lips; he made what was possibly the worst and most disturbing fake smile Stiles had ever seen. His teeth were normal.

"Okay, I'm coming out."

"I always knew you would."

"Oh, haha," Stiles grunted as he opened the door and stepped out of the closet. He stood in place in front of the open door. Derek stood in his place by his bed mere feet away. The two boys stared at each other for a moment. Stiles licked his lips, nodded his head, and looked around the room.

"So I see your shower-"

"Get out, Stiles."

"C'mon Derek, you know we have a kind of connection. Unspoken, of course. I came here to talk to you."

"We talked, now get out."

"But—"

Stiles was interrupted by Derek's quick moves to grab him. Derek had Stiles' wrist in his hand, squeezing to the point of piercing pain.

"YOU SAID YOU WOULDN'T HURT ME! WOLF LIAR!"

"Two times in two days, Stiles. If you don't leave now I'm going to rip—"

"I KNOW, I KNOW! RIP MY THROAT OUT WITH YOUR TEETH! I'VE HEARD IT BEFORE!"

If Stiles had not been yelling, he would have heard the singular laugh that Derek emitted. The Werewolf was genuinely amused. Derek released Stiles and before Stiles could take note of his expression Derek's face returned to a scowl. Stiles wrapped his wrist in his other hand. He began massaging the kink Derek placed in it as he spoke.

"Let me talk."

Derek began to speak.

"Don't interrupt." Stiles held up his index finger, "You assaulted me so I get at least a minute of talk time."

"10 seconds."

"I need you to tell me who Gerard Argent is."

Derek respired, "Argent. Argent? Stiles…"

"I know he's a Hunter, but I saw him today in school and he seems like some uber-freak Hunter. He was staring Scott down hardcore."

"As if any Hunter who knew the identify of a Werewolf wouldn't?"

"You're not concerned about this at all?"

"When he tries to kill him, let me know." Derek turned away from Stiles and sat on his bed.

"Because you have bigger things to worry about, or because Scott offended you and now you're brooding?"

Derek cut his eyes and glared at Stiles.

Stiles walked over to Derek's bed and took a seat beside him, keeping a safe few feet between them. As soon as he sat down Derek's eyes tinged red, which automatically sent Stiles jumping through the air away from him.

"Okay, no close proximity unless you're hitting me."

Derek shook his head and let his head hang low. With his eyes on the floor Derek spoke: "Thank you, Stiles. Thank you for trying. But being Alpha is more than I expected. I just have a lot of thinking to do. Please leave me alone."

"Derek!" Stiles' tone was lighthearted, but he was in partial shock, "We just had a breakthrough!" Stiles approached Derek and placed his hand on his shoulder.

"OUT!" Derek roared, turning to face Stiles. His eyes were red, his fangs revealed, and his sideburns had returned the unnecessary length common for Werewolves. Stiles jumped back again, falling on the floor and kicking his feet to slide away. His arms were flailing wildly as his back hit the bedroom door. Stiles rose to his feet and darted to his Jeep.

Derek stood up and walked to the window. He saw Stiles jump into his Jeep and drive away. As Derek's features returned to normal he could still hear Stiles' accelerated heartbeat a half a mile down the road. Derek turned and collapsed onto his bed. He killed Peter for everyone's safety; his goal was never to be an Alpha. Alphas were, by nature, ruthless and instinctive. They were angry and short-tempered. He was all of those things, coupled with dangerous. He nearly changed Jackson the night he begged for it, and very nearly killed Stiles just for touching him. Perplexing as it was, the memory of Stiles' touch on his shoulder lingered with him as he drifted into a needed sleep.

X-X-X-X

Allison pulled her car into the driveway of her house. After putting the Mazda in park she sat and stared at her front door. Only a couple of hours ago her grandfather saw her with Scott. She was sure he was waiting for her inside the house. At that very moment he was probably sitting with a Scotch in his hand waiting to chain her up in her room. Despite the frenzied argument he and her parents were involved in she knew they would support whatever measures he wanted to put in place.

Stiles had enough to think about at the moment, but she would eventually have to tell him everything she knew about the man who was once her favorite person in the world. He was powerful, much more powerful than her father, mother, and aunt combined. He was on the Hunter Council, an assembly that governed all Hunters. More than that she did not know, but he had to be a skilled killer to climb up to that governing body.

Allison derided her own thoughts. How was it that the Council had become so malevolent in her eyes? She was an Argent. She was a member of the most notable Hunter family in history. Everything she researched said that Werewolves were the tormentors and the Hunters were the saviors. But how could a savior be so…evil?

When Allison entered her house and saw Gerard she knew her prediction had been correct.

"Sit." He commanded in a tone too similar to Derek's.

"I've got homework to do." Allison clutched her back and began to walk up the stairs. She stopped when Gerard began to speak.

"What you heard last night, the fight, the things that were said, just remember that those things were said in a moment of blind rage."

"You threatened the men who saved my life. You said you were going to kill the guy I love, those things don't just go away pop."

Gerard looked at Allison. She was perched on the stairwell, ready to run away at any moment.

"Allison, you have to know that Werewolves are dangerous. I go by the Code, I will not kill them without proof that they murdered a human. But never forget what they have done to your family."

"Aunt Kate was insane."

"She was also your blood. You don't kill mentally unstable people, you treat them."

"The man who killed her is dead, killed by a Werewolf."

Gerard nodded, "That is true, but don't forget why that Werewolf killed him. He did it for power. They will turn on you in a moment."

Allison began to go up the stairs.

"Allison," Gerard stood and watched her freeze in place, "when the time comes you will align yourself with the Argents. We hunt those that hunt us."

Allison took a moment to speak, a necessary pause after such an intense statement, "They won't hunt us, pop."

Gerard stood up from his seat and walked up to Allison. Though he kept a foot between them his offensive stance still showed.

"They will; you'll see."

X-X-X-X

Around the supernatural cluster that enclosed him Jackson constantly felt weak. On the lacrosse field, he did not. Jackson was the star. Even with Scott's gifts, Jackson knew he was the better player. Albeit his skill made the difference, but it was enough to remind him that the bite was not all he needed to be strong.

As Stiles warmed the bench, Scott and Jackson led their teams on the field playing scrimmage matches against themselves. The state championship was two weeks away and everyone wanted to display their skills and drive to earn a starting position. Jackson almost felt bad for Stiles, who was under cruel punishment for missing the semi-final game. With the events of the previous few days, Jackson knew he had to go to bat for Stiles against their over-caffeinated coach.

Once Finstock blew his whistle to signal the end of practice, Jackson, Scott, Stiles, and Danny assembled at the bench. They traded thoughts on each other's technique, a few friendly jibs, and sympathetic glimpses towards Stiles every time his sarcastic defense mechanisms kicked into the conversation. The boys were eventually interrupted.

"You may play for a different team, but you play really well Danny!"

Stiles investigated the girl who had interrupted their post-practice powwow. The fact that she used nearly the same line he had used to coerce Danny into helping trace a text only enflamed his curiosity. This girl was, by all definitions, gorgeous. She was petite, a little shorter than Allison but not quite as short as Lydia. She wore tight fitting jeans that accented an athletic hourglass, with a loose blouse that left her top half to the imagination. Her skin was slightly tanner than was normal in Beacon Hills, her hair was sandy blonde, and her eyes were Chestnut brown.

"Thanks," Danny smiled. If the boys hadn't known his orientation they would have sworn he had a crush on this girl, "Guys, this is Gabriella Fuoco, she just transferred here today."

Scott and Stiles introduced themselves. Jackson shook her hand and smirked, "I'm Jackson. Fuoco, that's an interesting name."

"It's Italian," she smiled, "and if I hear a Jersey Shore reference I'm going to take your sticks beat you with them."

"Promise?"

Danny elbowed Jackson, "Gabi's going to come out with us to TJ's party on Friday night."

"I am," Gabi locked arms with Danny, "and with a wingman like Danny, I'll be on the prowl. You boys watch out." She winked before she kissed Danny on the cheek and walked away.

"If she just moved here, how did you two become besties all of a sudden?" Stiles questioned.

"We aren't, she's just really cool. Trust me, this girl's going to keep things interesting."

On their way to the locker room Scott whispered to Stiles, "As if we need anything else interesting."

X-X-X-X

Allison had spent a great deal of time reading old books on Werewolf lore. History, fables, research, everything she could get her hands on aided her in her search for truth. When Allison's mother walked into her room, she barely even acknowledged the disruption.

"Allison, look at me."

Allison put Kate's necklace into her book and closed it to mark the page. "Yes?"

Victoria sat on Allison's bed, "Come sit with me." As she granted her mother's request, Victoria continued to speak, "I need you to do me a favor."

Allison scoffed, "A favor? Really?"

"Yes."

"What?"

Victoria took her daughter's hand, "I need you to do what I asked you to do before you faced the Alpha."

Allison remembered her mother's demands that night. She could not meet those demands on that night, and she couldn't do it in that moment either.

"Staying silent isn't going to help anyone."

Victoria, always easy to anger, took a deep, calming breath. "Allison, baby, I need you to understand something. I didn't have the strength that night to tell you this, and I barely do now."

"What?"

"Argents, all members of the Hunter's Council, have roles to play. Usually the roles are chosen for you. You know why your grandfather snapped at me last night?"

"Why?"

"Because my role was chosen for me. I was to be a Hunter, but instead I chose to lead. I refused to be a Hunter because, at that point in my life, I couldn't see myself killing anyone."

"What changed?"

"I still can't see myself doing the killing, but I've seen what Werewolves are capable of. They're not safe creatures, Allison. I know that not even the simplest human is safe, but Werewolves are volatile. I've met Werewolves who are so well trained that they can control themselves at all times, but that's impossible for most."

Allison thought about what her mother said, "How do they do it?"

"I can't say, I'm sure it's different for every wolf." Victoria looked to the ground, "I'm not the best example of staying true to the Code. I've encouraged needless killing. But, if this thing with Derek and Scott has taught me anything, it's that we can never assume."

"Then why won't you make pop see it the same way?"

"He never will," Victoria squeezed Allison's hand, "and I'm scared that other members of the Council share his same thoughts. So please, Allison, before they force you into something you don't want to be a part of, just stay quiet. I can't watch you go through the same things I've been through."

Allison closed her eyes and rested her head on her mother's shoulder. She would never be a passive daughter, she didn't have that in her, but she could help her mother for as long as possible.

"Okay."

X-X-X-X

Scott rushed through the door of the vet's office. He ran through the empty waiting room and into the back, tossing his book bag to the side.

"Made it!" He pronounced proudly.

Dr. Deaton looked up from his desk and grinned, "After our recent revelations I'm just glad you're still working here, being two minutes late doesn't bother me."

Scott took a seat in Dr. Deaton's guest chair, "When are we going to talk about that? I know you said you weren't a Werewolf, but you didn't say you were human either."

Dr. Deaton closed the binder he was gazing through. He locked eyes with Scott, "I know it matters to you, but my identity isn't what's important. You're what's important. If the need comes, I'll tell you everything you need to know. Until then, the dog kennels need cleaning." He smirked.

"You did save my life, so I guess I'll have to take that for now."

"For now," Dr. Deaton pointed to his door, "Kennels."

Scott rolled his eyes and rose from his chair. He nodded in agreement with the vet and left his office. Scott desperately wanted to know Dr. Deaton's involvement in the ever-growing enigma of Beacon Hills, but until then he had dog crap to clean up.

X-X-X-X

"Jackson?"

Lydia's mother broke her gaze from her daughter's face to the boy who had just entered the room.

"Hi," he smiled uneasily, "Sorry for interrupting, I can come back."

"No," she stood, "I need to go run some errands anyway."

Jackson looked around the room. On the couch inside the room there was a blanket. A travel back was unorganized, open, and quite messy in the corner. On a small table near the couch was a laptop, strewn about papers, and a diet Coke. Lydia's mom had been in the hospital frequently since Lydia's injuries, but it appeared as if she was living there now.

"How are you?"

Lydia's mom sighed, "Hopeful." She smiled and walked to Jackson, hugging him, "Lydia would be happy you're here." She let him go and looked him in the eyes, "She told me what happened with the break up, but I know she would want you here with her."

Jackson nodded, "I'm glad you think so."

The mother, who was normally nice with a harsh edge, had been deeply changed by this event. There were rumors that she and Lydia's dad were planning on getting back together. Jackson couldn't help but think how ironic it was that it took a disaster for people to truly appreciate one another.

As Lydia's mother left the room and closed the door he took a seat beside her bed. He felt out of place and even feared to take her hand, as if she would wake up and shoo him away for touching her. Jackson didn't speak. It took him nearly twenty minutes to muster up the courage to take her hand. After another ten minutes he spoke.

"I'm sorry."

The two events couldn't have had anything to do with one another. But Jackson blamed himself when Lydia flat-lined. Mere seconds after he spoke the steady beep of her heart monitor turned in to a loud screech, signaling to the hospital that her heart had stopped. After that Jackson's perception of reality shifted. Voices were muffled, his vision nearly blurred, all he could hear was his own heartbeat. Even as a nurse guided him out of the room and the code team ran in, all he could think was how his heart was still beating and Lydia's had stopped.

X-X-X-X

Dr. Deaton rushed into the kennels when he heard Scott scream. As he ran through the office and into the kennel door he found Scott hunched into a defensive position. His fangs were exposed, ears pointed up as if he were listening to something. He turned his eyes to Dr. Deaton and roared. The vet backed away slowly from the much more feral version of his apprentice and shut the kennel door. Scott ran for the door as it shut, and despite his attempts to rip it open, he could not beat it down once Dr. Deaton locked it.

X-X-X-X

Victoria shut her eyes and winched at the sudden pain striking her chest. Her heart felt like it was compressing with a pinching sensation spreading up her neck and down her left side. Allison jumped up off the bed.

"MOM!"

Victoria's body began shaking. Involuntary muscle spasms struck her stomach and arms. In a matter of seconds she fell off of the bed and drifted into unconsciousness.

X-X-X-X

Stiles climbed out of his window. The sun had just set and the moon was no where in sight, but Stiles prayed that when the moon finally rose it would not be full. This would be his third visit to Derek's house in a very short time period, but he needed his help. The police scanner revealed another person had been killed in Beacon Hills and this time Peter Hale couldn't have been responsible.


	4. The Call of the Wild

Stiles was fortunate. Driving at fluctuating speeds exceeding 80 miles per hour would normally lead to police attention, but the small police force in Beacon Hills was distracted by the murder. Though he was driving as fast as his Wrangler could go he still did not feel it was fast enough. The thought that another murder had happened so soon after Peter Hale's death was insane. He needed Derek to examine the crime scene, to get a scent or see something that would probably be missed by a normal human's eyes. As he turned onto the road leading to the Hale estate he realized he could have gotten Scott to help him. Instead, he found himself going to Derek yet again.

Stiles yelped as he slammed on his brakes. A large, hairy, dark figure erupted out of the woods and ran into his driving course. Stiles rammed the figure at 60 miles per hour, knocking it a fair distance away. His headlights revealed the figure for what it was: a Werewolf. A Peter Hale sized Werewolf. Stiles instantly realized that Derek had phased and knew there was no stopping a pissed off Alpha from killing whatever was in its path.

Stiles slammed his Jeep into reverse. As he backed away the Werewolf disappeared into the night, no longer illuminated by his headlights. He wanted to check on Derek, to see if he killed him, but if Stiles didn't kill him then Derek would kill him. Stiles tried turn around, but backed into a tree in his haste. Before he could drive away his door opened and he was thrown to the ground.

"PLEASE DON'T KILL ME!" he screamed, eyes closed.

"I'm not going to kill you, idiot."

Stiles peered through one eye to find Derek standing over him, dressed in nothing but gym shorts.

"Why are you naked!?"

"Because you just ran over me and I unphased."

"Oh, extreme pain, right. But why are you naked!?"

"My clothes don't phase with me.  Is there a reason why you're here, again?" Derek was speaking through gritted teeth, clearly angry but trying to keep his temper down.

Stiles breathed a sigh of relief, "Oh, God. I swear I thought…"

"Point, Stiles." Derek lifted him up to his feet. Stiles winced at his touch from fear of being hit. This slightly insulted him, as if Stiles actually feared him. That was an odd reaction since Derek typically enjoyed scaring Stiles.

"Sorry." Stiles shook his head and cracked his neck, "There was—" Stiles paused and looked at Derek's shorts, his curiosity overtaking his thoughts, "If you just unphased then why do you have shorts?"

"Really?'

"Inquiring minds want to know."

"I tie them to my leg so my dick isn't swinging around when idiots hit me with a car and make me unphase."

"Oh." Stiles eyed Derek. Derek eyed Stiles. As seemed to be frequent between the two, an awkward silence stood between them. In that moment, Stiles confused himself with his attraction to Derek's features. Even though there was a murder, and he hit someone with a car, he was actually lost gazing at Derek's face. Stiles didn't understand what was going through his mind and didn't have time to rationalize.

"Stiles! Point?!"

"Oh! Sorry, I just—whatever. Some real shit is going down right now, I just heard that there was another murder."

"What?"

"Yeah! A murder, with no Alpha to pin it on!" Stiles realized he was standing in front of an Alpha and corrected himself. "I mean no Peter Hale."

Derek turned away from Stiles and thought for a moment.

"I figured we could go and check it out. You can do your sniff sniff thing I'll provide the commentary."

Derek nodded, "Take me back to my place so I can get some clothes. I'll go with you if you keep the commentary to yourself."

They jumped into Stiles' car and drove off toward Derek's house. The ride was silent, except for when Derek saw Stiles' eyes stray from the road and over to him. Derek bucked towards Stiles, shocking the boy into paying attention to the road.

Derek turned to look out of the passenger-side window and hide the smile that crossed his face. He still enjoyed scaring Stiles--just a little.

X-X-X-X

"This is ridiculous." Victoria said as she took in a deep breath for the doctor pressing his stethoscope to her back.

"Mom!" Allison snapped, "You had a heart attack right in front of me! We need to make sure you're okay!"

"Ridiculous, but necessary," the doctor examining her spoke up. He walked over to her chart of results from a previous battery of tests, "your blood pressure is disturbingly high. I'm surprised you haven't had a heart attack before tonight."

"My blood pressure?" Victoria questioned. She seemed shocked.

"Yes," the doctor replied, "along with the high BPMs your heart is emitting and high temperature. I'm going to prescribe some medication that should bring that right down, and here's a list of foods you should avoid. Other than that I'm surprised you feel so well after a heart attack. I can honestly say you're the first person to walk in here and leave in the same night when cardiac arrest was the problem."

"What do you mean?" Chris asked.

"Well," the doctor handed Chris her prescription, "there's usually some amount of heart damage, ranging from minor that will heal with appropriate attention or major that can result in the heart being unable to pump blood. Heart attacks affect people differently, but the fact that there is no damage evident in her ECG or MRI is pretty miraculous."

"Well," Victoria smiled, "Christmas is about 60 days away so maybe it's an early miracle. Can we leave now?"

The doctor nodded, "You're free to go, but I will need to see you in a week for a follow-up. If you have any chest pains, shortness of breath, or nausea call me, okay?"

Victoria nodded spared no time in rushing out of her room's door. Chris, Gerard, and Allison were in tow. On their way out of the hospital Allison saw Jackson sitting in the ICU waiting room. He looked stunned.

"Mom," Allison pointed to him, "I need to check on Jackson."

"Then you have him give you a ride home, I can't stay here."

Gerard eyed Victoria oddly. Chris nodded to Allison.

"Go ahead," he said, "if you need a ride let me know. I need to get your mom home."

As the three Argents left the hospital Allison approached Jackson and sat down beside him. He did not notice at her first, but when she placed her hand on his shoulder his lost thoughts were re-focused.

"Are you okay?" Allison said, deep concern rooted in her voice.

"No," Jackson spoke, "Lydia…"

"She's—" Allison instantly felt herself begin to tear up, preparing for Jackson's next words.

"She's fine." Jackson replied, his eyes still fixated in front of him, "But she flat lined, she almost died tonight." He shook his head, "I just can't—"

"Think about it?" Allison asked, "Talk about it? It's okay, you don't have to. She's fine. That's all that matters." She pulled Jackson in to a hug, wiping the slight moisture under her eyes as they hugged. "So she's totally fine?"

Jackson pulled away, "Yeah. Her mom had just left so I was the only one there when it happened. I just…I wanted to apologize to her for what I put her through. When I did she flat-lined, I know it's stupid, I just felt…responsible."

Allison shook her head, "You're not, you know that."

Jackson nodded, "Her parents are in there now. I didn't go back after they got here, I think they just want to be alone with her."

Allison looked at the doors of the ICU, she could barley see Lydia's parents in the room and could not see her face.

"Let's go home," Allison said, "I'll come with you to visit her tomorrow."

Jackson nodded as they stood up, "Did you come to see her?"

Allison sighed, "I'll explain in the car."

X-X-X-X

Scott's mom had been worried when he was late for dinner, when he didn't answer his calls on his cell phone or the vet's phone. Scott hated it, but he began lying to her as soon as he got home. The kennels needed cleaning and one of the dogs brought in from a drug bust got out. Animal control had to be called, Dr. Deaton left early and he was alone, the lies kept coming to explain why he was extremely late to get home.

His mother was the most caring person he had ever met. Her worrisome anger shifted to concern at her son's words in a matter of seconds. She was the woman who raised him. Who taught him to be proud of himself. Who hadn't bought a new dress in two years to fund him playing lacrosse. The woman who had given him everything he desired despite her having nothing to show for it, except a lying son.

As Scott removed his shirt and changed into a pair of shorts he considered what life would be like if he told his mother about his condition. What would she say? No matter her opinion, he knew she would support him and that would mean he wouldn't have to lie to her anymore.

Scott nestled into his bed and apologized to his mother under his breath. Before he drifted to sleep the words of Dr. Deaton echoed in his mind.

X-X-X-X

The site of the murder, though announced hours previous to Derek and Stiles' arrival, was still swarming with law enforcement. The body was found in an alleyway not far from Beacon Hills' town square. Given Stiles' lack of Werewolf agility, he waited in his Jeep as Derek leapt across rooftops to position himself above the site. After a half-hour he returned to Stiles' Jeep and hopped in the passenger seat.

"So?" Stiles probed Derek, expectant for an answer.

"I didn't see anything," Derek said, "the body had already been removed. But, I smelled wolves. Werewolves. At least three different ones."

"Distant cousins of yours?"

Derek cut his eyes at Stiles, "No, asshole. I have some thinking to do."

"I'll take you back to your place." Stiles started his Jeep.

"No," Derek opened his door, "you go home. I want to stick around for the night. When the area clears I'll be able to get closer."

"Even though your name is cleared you can't risk being caught near a murder scene. Truest me, I know."

Derek nodded, "And Stiles, one more thing."

Stiles ducked down into his seat as Derek grabbed for his head. The last time Derek had said that Stiles' face collided with his steering wheel. Derek would have reached out to slap him instead, but Stiles' reaction was enough to satiate his need for punishment. This time Derek didn't hide his laugh as he leapt out of Stiles' Jeep.

As he disappeared into the night Stiles drove off, muttering under his breath about Derek domestically abusing him.

X-X-X-X

"A fairy?!" Stiles was hunched over his lunch tray, forming a secretive circle with Scott, Jackson, and Allison.

"Yeah!" Scott replied, "That's how he fended off Peter Hale, apparently."

"A fairy?!" Stiles was still in disbelief.

"What does a fairy do, exactly?" Jackson's rationality overtook Stiles' excitement, "I always thought they floated around with little wings and weren't real."

"A few months ago I didn't think Werewolves were real," Allison said plainly, "At this point I'm ready to believe anything."

"He said he was really old, and said that he knew a lot of things. But he didn't say anything about powers or glittery wings.  He just said that he watches this area."

"Watches?" Allison asked, "Like he protects it?"

"Well he did a fine job with all of the murders then, huh?" Stiles mastery of sarcasm was at its utmost proficiency in the discussion.

"I don't think so," Scott said, "I think he is just here in case something huge goes down. He said he just watches and only stepped in to help me because he knew me personally." 

"So Peter literally murdering everyone wasn't something huge?  The Hale fire wasn't something huge?" Stiles scoffed.

"Did he say anything about why you phased?" Allison asked, again very coolly .

"Yeah," Scott's face twisted in confusion, "he was just as confused as I was. He said that he heard something, a sort of call. Like a wolf's howl but different. He said it sounded like a woman's voice, kind of sing-song. I can't remember what is sounded like."

"Does he know if Derek phased?" Jackson, though always critical, was very interested in the result of this discussion as well.

"No." Scott said.

"I do," Allison replied, "Stiles ran over him in Alpha form last night."

"What!?" Scott exclaimed.

"Yes," Stiles leaned forward, "he's fine.  We went to check out the murder scene from last night and he said he could smell the scent of other wolves there."

"You went with Derek and not me?" Scott asked.

"You weren't answering your phone and no one was answering the door when I went by the vet's office!" Stiles lied, "I didn't know you had phased, I just assumed you were busy. Sue me."

"Aw," Jackson said sarcastically, "cute. This is wild, Scott and Derek both phased, there was a murder with other Werewolves…did he say who they were?"

"No," Stiles exhaled sharply, "I was going to go by his place after school to ask him about it. But with all of this, I think there are more things we have to discuss."

"What?" Allison asked.

"Well," Stiles leaned forward even more, glancing around as he lowered his voice to a whisper, "the phasing, the murder, your mom, Lydia almost dying, I think it's all connected. When Lydia was bit and didn't change, I started digging in to the things that are immune to Werewolf bites…and there aren't any, except for one."

"What?" The three said simultaneously.

Stiles grinned, "Look at you, wanting my knowledge. Bet your fairy doesn't know this…it's called the Mother. I read about her in a book about the Hunter Council. Apparently the Mother is the one who gave birth to the Mystics, the supernatural things in the world. She was a normal human who had six children: a vampire, a Werewolf, a shapeshifter, a barbarian, a mage, and a psychic. It didn't talk about the father or who the father was, and the timeline was really confusing.  They think she was born somewhere between 2,000 BC and 1,000 BC and she had the children at some point before she died, which they place super close to Christ's birth.  Anyway, that's where all the supernatural stuff apparently comes from.

"I know it sounds far fetched, but the book said that one of the goals of the Hunter's Council is to find the Mother born into every generation. She is constantly reborn due to the sorrow of her children for her death, or something like that. That part wasn't specific, most of the book wasn't, but they can find out if a suspected mortal is the mother by inflicting her with a vampire bite, a Werewolf bite, or having a psychic read her mind. All three of those things don't work."

Scott and Jackson sat back and laughed.

"Lydia?" Jackson shook his head, "The root of all this?"

"Vampires?" Scott took a sip of his water, "Mages, psychics, barbarians?"

Allison was still focused on Stiles, "Did the book say anything about her being able to summon Werewolves?"

"Yes," Stiles said, "in her current form she can only call them when her life is in danger. It's something about two souls being inside one body. When the body is danger of dying the Mother releases a call for aide."

Jackson shook his head, "Have they found the Mother reborn before to know that's true?"

Stiles shrugged, "No.  At least I don't think so.  I'm not sure who wrote this or how they know all of this but some of it is very convincing."

Jackson began to reconsider his skepticism, while Scott continued to shake his head.

"So when Lydia flat lined last night," Jackson began, "around that same time we know Scott and Derek both phased and there was a murder involving other Werewolves."

"And when Lydia was attacked on formal night," Stiles said, "at that same time Scott phased."

"I was being attacked," Scott said, "of course I would phase."

"Maybe," Allison responded, "or this is true. I mean, I can't believe it either, but we already have Werewolves and fairies in this town…is this really that crazy?"

"Where did you find this book in Beacon Hills?" Scott asked, "The library!?"

"No, I ordered it on Amazon Prime.  It downloaded to my Kindle." Stiles said simply.

The three were quiet for a moment, "We need to talk to Derek, and to Dr. Deaton." Stiles knew one of the two would have answers to this, "Let's go to Derek's tonight after practice, he may have found something else out about the murder too."

Scott scoffed.

"Don't be a baby," Allison took Scott's hand, "you two need to talk this out anyway.  Especially if half of the things we just talked about were true."

X-X-X-X

"I just don't see how Lydia could be the Mother, or whatever this thing is called." Scott protested, "If she were then more weird things would have happened around her."

"You mean weirder things than the Hale house fire, a Werewolf murdering spree, the Argents moving to town, and a new pack moving in?" Stiles leaned forward from the back seat, "As far as I know Beacon Hills isn't that interesting to supernaturals for it's trees and lacrosse team."

"She was just a kid for half of that," Allison responded, "and Scott was around her plenty of times and never phased."

"Maybe she was trying to hide it," Jackson said.

"You can't be serious!" Scott said, turning to face Jackson in the back seat, "You've known her your whole life, does she really seem like she could be the birth source of all of this crazy stuff? And do you think, even if she is the Mother, that she would know about it _and_ not tell anyone?  Anyway Peter Hale mauled her, if she had the power to stop him she would have."

"Either way," Stiles interrupted, "Derek may know something that can help explain this. And if he doesn't I'm sure your fairy veterinarian can."

"Why do you sound like you don't believe me? He told me he's a fairy!"

"Maybe he can explain why Allison's mother had a heart attack, too." Jackson brought up a point they had yet to consider, "It's a little odd to me."

Allison slammed the car to a full stop. The boys, distracted by their supernatural debate had been ignoring the road and, in this case, the skyline. They all stared at Allison, who had her eyes and mouth wide open.

"Oh, God," she whispered as she pointed in front of them.

Though the road to Derek's house led them through a heavily wooded area they could still see a flood of bright, orange light filter through the woods. Above the tree rose a pillar of black smoke. The Hale Estate was on fire.


End file.
